


The Murderer

by VMarsLover



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AH - Freeform, AU, All Human, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, BAMF Skye | Daisy Johnson, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Dark Past, F/M, Garrett Sucks, Grant Ward Feels, Gun Violence, Hitchhiking, Hurt Skye | Daisy Johnson, LA, Murder, OOC, Out of Character, POV Grant Ward, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Skye | Daisy Johnson Needs a Hug, Skyeward - Freeform, knifes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VMarsLover/pseuds/VMarsLover
Summary: Grant Ward is always on the move, otherwise, he'll be caught. He spends his days picking up hitchhikers that he robs and kills. On his last day of being in LA, he meets a tiny brunette that will change things for him. *Now rated M* No graphics, mentions of murder and sex. (3 Parts/AH/AU/OOC)(More Characters as we go)
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Grant Ward
Comments: 12
Kudos: 8





	1. The Hitchhiker

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,  
> So this fanfiction was originally done as part of the TMI fandom under the name "The Hitchhiker."  
> After posting my OneShot for AOS titles "Another Chance" yesterday, I felt inspired to do this crossover.  
> All song lyrics are in italics.  
> Disclaimer, I do now own Agents of Shield or the song. I also have no beta, so don't come at me for spelling and grammar.  
> A lot of the tags don't exist in part 1.

**Summary:** **Grant Ward is always on the move; otherwise, he'll be caught. He spends his days picking up hitchhikers that he robs and kills. On his last day of being in LA, he meets a tiny brunette that will change things for him. *Now rated M* No graphics, mentions of murder and sex. 3 Parts/AH/AU/OOC**

The Murderer 

_Part 1: The Hitchhiker (3.0K)_

* * *

Grant’s POV

I rub my face trying to ease the soreness of the punch I received last night while applying concealer onto the dark purple bruise. That nerd last night had more fight in him than I expected. I quickly get dressed, grab my to-go bag, slam the house's door, and fish my key out of my coat pocket before locking the door.

I climb into my red pickup truck, where my mind runs through the events of the previous night. Last night did not go as planned, and failure to bring Garrett what he wants will haunt me when he finds out. I pull at my dark hair as I run my fingers through it with frustration. I can not fail tonight; it is not an option for me. Garrett will have my head; I must deliver.

I start the truck and reverse out of the driveway; I look at the house that I have lived in for a couple of weeks; soon, I will no longer live here; staying too long will get me caught. Not having anyone who cares about me for so long allowed me to create a hard exterior, so continuously moving is rather easy since nothing is holding me here.

I drive along the highway for miles, and I come up empty. After 2 hours, I pull over and aggressively slam my arms against the steering wheel. This cannot be happening to me, not again. I manage to fish a cigarette out of my pocket and light it. This is ridiculous, it is the middle of summer, and it's hotter than hell in California. There is always someone walking towards LA trying to be the next Brett Dalton or Chole Bennet and attempting to catch a ride. Personally, finding women is a lot easier since I can flirt with them and get what I want without it being suspicious. Last night I only saw men, and when I picked up one named Leo, he didn't have enough stuff on him for me to pay Garrett.

Every victim of mine ends up the same, unfound. I am invisible; the authorities have no idea who I am. That's how good I am. I never use my real name, always moving, and the bodies aren't discovered until I am already gone. I have been in LA for 5 weeks, and none of my 15 victims have been found. I remember each life I take, and I remember little facts about each of them. Leo went to MIT until his parents stopped supporting him when he decided he wanted to be with his girlfriend in Los Angeles instead. Phil was an older man trying to find a place to start over. Piper ran away from her parents to try and hunt down an old girlfriend. I don't have remorse for any of them, it's survival of the fittest, and I got to survive Garrett, and they are the cost.

Garrett has been in my life since I was 15 years old when my parents died. During that time, I started robbing people, and I made the mistake of taking from him, and now he uses my skills of being unseen to his advantage.

I toss the cigarette out the window and flick my signal on and continue on my way. I left my house 8 hours ago, and I am still empty-handed, and I am only 4 hours away from LA now from all my circling back. It is almost sunset when I see a small figure in the distance. I push my foot harder on the accelerator.

As I get closer, I see dark curls flying in the wind that belongs to a tiny girl who has her thumb out.

I pull over beside her and unlock the door, and she climbs in.

"You know you are too young to be climbing into a stranger's car," I say, and she looks towards me, and my heart stops for the first time ever, and I find myself falling into her deep chocolate-coloured eyes.

"Same could be said for you; you do not know me. For all you know, I could be an axe murderer," she says while fasting her seatbelt. This makes me smiles; she has no clue the danger she is in.

"You are five foot nothing; I have nothing to worry about. What's your name?" I ask.

"I am Skye, and you are?"

“Ward, where are you heading?" I only ever give my victims my last name.

"LA, I am running away from a damaged home."

It is then I realize the bruises on her arms, and I don't comment on them and instead pull back onto the freeway.

As we drive, we chat, and I find out she was in foster care, which means no one will miss her. She always wanted to do something with her art but hasn't had time. After an hour, she begs me to pull over for food, and I obey. We stop at a diner called Tahiti's; it is a cute little 50's diner with red booths with a retro design. Seems like a weird style for a place that sounds like a beach.

It is in this moment, for the first time in my life, I feel I have a connection with someone, and she’s a stranger who I am supposed to kill by the end of the night.

I tell her very vague things about my childhood and use the lies I've embedded into my mind to keep the conversation going. All of her questions are very general, and it is easy to follow along.

That is until she finally catches me off guard with, "So where's the girlfriend?" I freeze and remain still. "Or a boyfriend? I don't judge," she continues.

I glance at her, and my mouth feels so dry, and I manage to answer with, "definitely not gay, and I've never had one."

Her eyes go wide, and she leans forward, brushing her hands across mine, and a spark zaps us both.

"You are like 26, and you have never had a girlfriend? What have you been doing in LA?" she asks.

I shrug and reply with "23 actually, and I occupy my time with better things."

"So, you don't get laid? Like what hot 23-year-old is not hitting the clubs with his buddies picking up girls."

"See, that is different; sex is meaningless. I've had enough of it to know that as a fact. Relationships aren't for me."

"Have you tried one?" She asks.

"I did, once. In like the 5th grade."

She laughs and flashes me a bright smile and says, "grade 5 relationships don't count. You, my friend, need one."

Before I have a chance to reply, our food arrives, and we eat in silence until Skye finishes her meal and excuses herself to the restroom.

How did this tiny girl beat me in eating and ask for dessert? A couple of minutes pass, and I finish eating, and Skye hasn't returned. This is when regret sinks in, and I realize I messed up. She might've gotten away, and I'll be screwed for tomorrow. I jump from the booth and race to the back of the diner, and I hear yelling. I find myself running faster when I hear Skye's voice yell, "Let me go." I turn the corner and see a tall bearded man holding onto her arm, trying to pull her towards the closet.

I walk up to them, taking long strides and quickly grab his arm and push him towards the wall. "Never lay a hand on her again," I whisper into his ear.

And I let him go, and he stands up straight, but his punches are too slow, and I quickly move, and the drunk hit the wall and screams in agony. Then I finish him off with a knee to the head and knocking his soft head, and he goes unconscious and goes tumbling down.

I turn towards Skye, and she has a completely blank look on her face. I grab her hand, and she looks up to me and does the unexpected.

"Why did you help me? I had it under control," I am taken back.

"You did not have it under control. He was drunk, and he has like 150 pounds on you; he could have crushed you."

She shrugs and quietly whispers, "wouldn’t be the first time." I shake my head. Sure, I wasn't expecting the girl I would kill to thank me, but I did not expect her to be mad at me.

"Fine, whatever, can we go now?" I ask, and she nods, and we walk up to the counter, and I pay the bill. Then together, we step out.

We climb into the truck in silence, and we stay like that with the radio on. Until I finally turn my head and look at Skye with her dark-coloured locks flying around everywhere with the window down. She is dressed in short button-up jean shorts, with a white t-shirt. From there, I glance at her arms, and I see the bruises that were there earlier, but I can also see new ones beginning to form. I am about to tell her when she cuts me off by turning the radio and starts dancing and singing.

_I just wanna stay in the sun where I find  
I know it's hard sometimes.  
Pieces of peace in the sun's peace of mind  
I know it's hard sometimes.  
Yeah, I think about the end just way too much.  
But it's fun to fantasize.  
On my enemies who wouldn't wish who I was  
But it's fun to fantasize._

_Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride.  
Oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride.  
Taking my time on my ride_

As she sings, she is dancing as best she can and drumming on the dash.

_"I'd die for you," that's easy to say_  
_We have a list of people that we would take._  
_A bullet for them, a bullet for you_  
_A bullet for everybody in this room_  
_But I don't seem to see many bullets coming through_  
_See many bullets coming through_  
_Metaphorically, I'm the man._  
_But literally, I don't know what I'd do._  
_"I'd live for you," and that's hard to do_  
_Even harder to say when you know, it's not true._  
_Even harder to write when you know that tonight_  
_There were people back home who tried talking to you._  
_But then you ignored them still._  
_All these questions they're for real._  
_Like, "Who would you live for?"_  
_"Who would you die for?"_  
_And "Would you ever kill?"_

_Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride._  
_Oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride._  
_Taking my time on my ride_

This girl is amazing, she sings with so much heart, and she looks fantastic while doing it.

_I've been thinking too much._  
_I've been thinking too much_  
_I've been thinking too much_  
_I've been thinking too much_  
_(help me)_  
_I've been thinking too much (I've been thinking too much)_  
_I've been thinking too much (Help me)_  
_I've been thinking too much (I've been thinking too much)_  
_I've been thinking too much_

_Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride_  
_Oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time_  
_Taking my time on my ride_

_Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride_  
_Oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my_

_I've been thinking too much_  
_Help me_  
_I've been thinking too much_  
_Help me_

_I've been thinking too much (I've been thinking too much)_  
_I've been thinking too much (help me)_  
_I've been thinking too much (I've been thinking too much)_  
_I've been thinking too much_  
_Help me_

This song hits me hard once she's done. Help me. Does she need me to help her? I cannot believe my mind is considering this, but I want to help her. She is such a free spirit, and I want all the good for her.

Before I can change my mind, I pull over, put the truck in park, lean over, and take her hand. Yet again, there is a spark, and I ask her, "Can I kiss you"? Before I can talk myself out of it.

I never get a reply from her, and instead, her lips attack mine, and her hands run through my hair, and she is driving me crazy. She tastes like cherries from the pie, and it is incredible. My hands grab her waist, pulling her as close to me as possible.

I could've done like this for the entirety, but eventually, we pull away, and we gasp for air.

"Wow," she says in between pants.

"Geez, wow, is right" I manage to get out between breaths. My heart is beating out of control.

I have yet to let her go, and she does not fight to get out of my arms. She smells almost like flowers, which is a little odd for someone who has been walking with no shelter for probably a couple of days.

"I don't make it a habit of kissing guys; I don't know." She says, and I laugh.

"Don't think we are strangers anymore."

"Now, what are we going to do?" She asks.

"Well, I don't feel like driving anymore. How about we stop at a motel for the night?"

Skye doesn't answer, only nods, and 10 minutes later, I pull over to the motel. Typically, this is how I usually do these things. Bring people to a hotel, never my home. And have them killed there since it is easier to remove my DNA than in my house.

We reach the motel, and we walk up to the desk; standing there is a tall blonde, my usual type.

"Welcome to the Playground. What can I help you folks with tonight?" The blonde asks, fluttering her eyelashes on me; usually, I'd find this attractive, but it's revolting right now.

"Uh, just a room with two beds, please."

"Oh, sorry, sugar, only rooms with one bed are available. Is that going to be a problem?" she asks, looking between us.

Before I have a chance to answer, Skye beats me to it and answers with "no problem at all," and she reaches into her bag, pulling out a credit card. I can't let that be traced back to her. I jump in front of her, pulling mine out and tapping the keypad first. I turn around all charming and smile at her. She glares back at me.

I take the keys from the hostess, and she slips me a paper with her name and number and gives me a wink before walking into the back.

"Wow, does that happen a lot?" Skye asks.

"Pretty much. I am used to it," and we walk towards the room together. I tap the key, and the door clicks, and we walk inside.

The place is simple, one king bed. Windows with a balcony, the bathroom is right by the door.

"I am going to shower," Skye says and rushes in. Now I am left with my demons.

Do I have to hurt her? I have never felt feelings about anyone and cared about their welfare. She gives me hope for change. She has such light in her, and I don't think I can extinguish it as I am battling myself—my cell rings. Only one person has this number.

I answer with, "yes, sir?"

"Have you got the money and passports?" Garrett asks.

"Yes, I do. I just had a little hiccup; I will have them to you tomorrow night."

"Excellent, we'll decide then where you'll go next. Be prepared in 24 hours for a flight."

I reply with "Yes, sir." and with that, Garrett hangs up.

Well, that blew things up. I don't have time to find someone else. That call sealed Skye's fate. I'll have to get rid of her in the morning before I leave, but I want to be human and experience these emotions until then.

After we are both showered, we climb into bed; and I can not sleep, and I have difficulty trying too. I don't know this wonderful girl will no longer be alive in 12 hours, and it will be all my fault.

"Ward? Are you still awake?" she whispers.

"Yes, I am," I mumble.

"Will you kiss me?" and it is like she knows it'll be the last time, and I don't think about it twice. I quickly roll on top of her smashing our lips together, and a moan escapes her lips, and her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me tightly in.

I pull at her hair and kiss along her neck, and she moans my name. Quickly, our clothes are gone. Then once we are done, we both fall into bliss. This girl will be the death of me.

After I dispose of her, I cry, for the first time ever, I never cried when my parents died, but when I had to kill this girl, I broke. I am a monster.

I walk to my truck, and on the way, I am hit by a car.  
It is then I awake from my dream.

Only to be living another nightmare.

I wake up to Skye on top of me, pressing a knife into my throat, quickly drawing blood.

"I told you I might be a murderer, and I wasn't lying. You should not have underestimated me". This is when I realize I have been played.

_TO BE CONTINUED…_


	2. The Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More characters become involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I am posting this a few hours early.  
> So the writing style is different for this part and will be similar for the third part of the story. It is very much written in stems of consciousness in the first POV, which is a style I enjoy.  
> Honestly, going back through this story has been great and I love it. I got the chance to add some new details, along with small foreshadows.  
> Thank you all for so much support on Part 1!  
> Disclaimer: I do not own AOS, otherwise I would've saved Grant. I also don't have a beta, and I don't get paid.  
> Enjoy! Make sure to leave comments and kudos! They make me so happy to have that kind of interaction.

The Murderer:

The Daughter (5.4K)

Skye's POV

I squeeze my legs tightly around his body, holding him in place as I press my knife deep into his throat, drawing blood to ensure he knows I am serious.

The last few hours have been an absolute train wreck.

First, my day started with me leaving behind my home of the last few weeks by burning the trailer I stayed in for the last month and a half. I grew used to the routine of being in L.A, but I received word I need to be out, so as soon so as I showered, I left, leaving no trace behind in case someone gets smart and connects the dots to me. This is routine, so whenever I choose a new place, I make sure it is far enough from everyone else, so when I light it up, it doesn't burn their homes.

I leave armed with my small bag with a few of my belongings that I don't keep in storage since I have plenty worldwide. Garrett would be disappointed if he knew I have become sentimental.

I have pepper spray in the waistband of my shorts and a pocketknife in my front pocket, so it isn't obvious. It is too hot to have the gun in my waist, so it stays in my gun along with my big knife.

I spend the day walking along the highway and walking up to it in hopes of finding someone to pick me up.

My job is easy; find someone, kill them, take what they have, and leave.

Simple.

Until today.

The guy who picks me up is the most gorgeous person I have ever seen. His hair is dark and fairly short but long enough to leave me with the strong urge to reach out and run my hands through it. His dark whiskey eyes stare at me with such intensity I find myself being drawn in more and more.

He introduces himself as Ward, and I know something is off since that doesn’t sound like a first name at all. So, I make myself trustworthy by giving him my chosen name.

I can’t give him a reason not to trust me. I need this cash.

The problem being, I want him, not just because of his looks, but well, let's be honest, that is apart of it, But he seems like a straight-up guy who generally feels concerned for me.

So, I warn him repeatedly, trying to scare him off by telling him I could be an axe murder. Which isn't far off from what I am; I just prefer knives.

He ignores my warnings, leaving me with minimal choice.

Then he buys me food, and it's like the entrance to my soul where butterflies fill my body with warmth and affection. Having someone look after me is something different for me, and it doesn't stop there. Ward comes and helps me get away from the drunk guy, even though I don't need the help. But he doesn’t know that.

He also doesn’t know I have dealt with worse.

From there on, I do the unthinkable.

I go along with the plan of sleeping in a motel, where I attempt to pay for the night, so there is no trail traced back to him. Unfortunately, he beats me to it, so I make a mental note to remember to take his card with me and leave a ridiculous trail on crazy items to misinform authorities when and if they discover the body.

However, as I said, I do the unthinkable, and things fall apart from thereon.

We kiss.

One of the only mistakes I've made in the last 5 years that wasn't a calculated move.

The kiss starts slowly, and I feel a fire begin inside me for the first time in a while. I feel true pleasure that isn’t forced by me playing a fake little game.

This is the real me.

Free as the Sky.

I give into my senses, and we fall into bed together.

It was the best night of my life.

That's what makes this more horrible as I stand above him in his last moments a few hours later.

I never slept. I laid awake thinking.

Somehow after 12 years, I have seemed to have grown a conscious.

I can't kill him.

But I have to.

Survival of the fittest.

The next thing I know, he pushes into the knife and tells me to do it.

I freeze; this man seems full of life. Why would he ask me that?

The next thing I know, I am being tossed on my back, and the knife is ripped from my hand since he caught me off guard.

"Who sent you?" he growls in my face as his face transforms into a totally different man from what I saw yesterday. Instead of carefree and happy, he is now dark and cold. This is not the man I slept with.

"No one sent me," I answer, and then I realize how strange that question is, "What do you mean who? Why would someone be after you?" as soon as I ask, he presses the knife to my neck for the first time.

He glares down at me with his dark whisky eyes transformed to a dark coal colour. Where he answers with, "Not your business; why are you trying to kill me?"

I roll my eyes; of course, he can't be the villain and give away his plan, so I answer with, "Work, nothing personal."

He lessens his hold on the knife slightly but doesn't lift it.

"So, are you going to kill me or not? There is only so long a girl can be on her back before she becomes bored and needs to be on top."

He rolls his eyes, and he lowers his guard enough for me to lift my legs that haven't been pinned down and use all my strength to rock my body in one swift movement sending Ward and myself off the bed.

He is caught by surprise as he goes off the bed as well, and when we crash to the floor, Ward groans and loosens his grip. I snap off the ground so quickly, and Ward grabs my leg. I kick him in the balls as he lays on the ground and let's go of my leg as he curses.

I rush to the corner of the room and dig through my bag, pulling my Glock 17 out and pointing it at Ward, who apparently had the same idea and recovered enough to find a gun and is now pointing to what looks like some Smith & Wesson.

"Now what?" I ask, not taking my eyes off him.

He opens his mouth to answer, but his phone starts ringing, causing us both to freeze.

"Answer it," I say, and he raises an eyebrow at me, then slowly moves to the nightstand and grabs his cell.

If he doesn't make it out of this, then at least if he answers the phone now, it'll give me more time before someone realizes he is missing.

Since he doesn't have a girlfriend.

"Yes," he says into the phone.

"I am working on it."

"Yes, sir."

So not a mom.

"Yes, sir."

His eyes flutter over to me, and he says, "I will be there; I got caught up in something."

I now raise an eyebrow, glad he has confidence he is getting out of here, and he won't die thinking otherwise.

Then suddenly hangs up, and we stare at each other, not moving, keeping our guns aimed at each other until my phone also starts blaring.

"Can I answer it?" I ask in case I move, and he becomes trigger happy.

However, he does nod, and I become confused by his actions and question why he'd let me. Then I realize it is probably, so no one is missing me.

Oh, how romantic.

I fish my phone from my back pocket and answer without glancing at the ID because only one person has this number.

"Sir," I answer, and Ward narrows his eyes at me.

"I need you out of LA in a few hours, need to move up the timeline, come meet me in Nashville for a reunion dinner."

He causes me to roll my eyes, and I reply with, "Then you'll give me my end of the deal?"

"Only if you bring what I require; if not, you know what happens." He says, and I hold back the shivers that threaten to crawl down by the back of what he might do.

Bad thoughts.

"Yes, sir," I say because either the man known as Ward leaves this room, or I do. If he has a conscience, he will become more hesitant to hurt someone with a family, and if he knows I have a family, he might be more inclined to let me go. However, I want a fair fight because, honestly, going back to my “father” seems like a nightmare that I don't think I can handle anymore. Since not many fathers torture, drug, and threaten their children at a young age and force them to become their personal murderers.

"Don't disappoint me again; you know what will happen," and he hangs up.

I sigh and slide the phone into my pocket, not breaking eye contact with Ward encase he tries something.

Then I do the unthinkable, I move without warning him, and he doesn't shoot.

Interesting.

I grab my bag and start shaking it out onto the bed, trying to find the book I feel on the bottom. I put it out and flip it open, exposing the hollow area.

As I do, this Ward continues to watch but makes no effort to stop me.

Good to know I got under his skin as well.

I began unrolling all the bills and laying them all on the bed, counting each, hoping I have at least 7,000 since I have 3,000 stored away already. As I dig around, Ward finally asks me, "What are you doing? This is not the time to be counting."

"Well, if I don't have enough money, you might as well kill me because it will be a better ending for me," I admit and continue going.

"What do you mean?"

"Be quiet, and let me do this in peace. This is none of your business."

"I can help you," he says, and I can't help but burst out laughing.

"You think you can help me. Oh, honey. You are mistaken because I am your enemy so treat me like one."

"How much do you need?" he asks, and I laugh again.

"I need 10,000 in the next few hours. I only have 3,000 here, and the rest is hidden if I don't bring it to him; I'm dead anyway unless you have another 4,000 laying around."

He drops his gun and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stack, and tosses it at me, and I catch it before it hits the floor.

"Are you for real?" I ask because this is becoming too weird. Apparently, sleeping with a mark makes them more vulnerable.

He shrugs and answers with, "I propose that as my peaceful gesture, and it might get me killed, but at least it won't be in this motel room."

"Okay, truce," and I began gathering my things from the bed.

"I am, however, curious as to why you need that much money."

"You don't get to know those answers."

"Were you just planning to kill and rob me?" He then asks.

"Yes, I was, and it wasn't personal. It is survival of the fittest; I am doing this for a better life and protecting my mom. I will do anything for her, even if it means hurting you, so don't be offended. You aren't innocent either; no one carries that much cash without being involved in something sketchy." I answer, and I see him look deep into my eyes, probably trying to find my soul of the little girl that died long ago.

"Are you by chance going to Nashville?" he asks, and I am completely taken back by the question that I find myself frozen.

"What makes you assume that?" I ask, and I lift myself from the bed stuff the cash back into the book.

"I also think you find someone, kill them, take their belongs and flee right after as your job."

I raise my gun again, not liking where this is going, "How could you possibly know this is my job?"

"You work for Garrett" hearing his name sends shivers down my spine that this time I can't hold back. This is why I only call him ‘sir.’

"How'd you-" and I stop myself mid-sentence before I give more away.

I didn't even answer anything.

I also didn't deny anything.

He raises his hands in a surrender gesture and says, "We clearly work for the same person with the same memo and meeting place. I don't think taking each other out is a good idea since Garrett will be pissed if only one of us shows up."

"Tell me one thing, how'd you end up roped into Garrett's world?" I ask,

Still not putting my gun down.

He shrugs and says, "I robbed him once; now I owe him."

I roll my eyes because that's definitely something he'd use as leverage.

"Let me guess you were a kid," I say.

"15," and he confirms my suspicions. Yep, my father is a real treat and takes kids and turns them into weapons.

"You follow a pattern he has. He makes it seem like he's your only option, and he takes all your kindness and destroys it. And from what I gather, you've some bits of humanity left in you since you saved me from that guy and given the way you looked at me when you noticed my bruises, you, for some reason, care. There was a part of you that saw me as a person rather than a mark."

He stays frozen, and it is like I can see smoke coming from his ears as his brain is going into overdrive over how much he has given away about himself.

"What about you? How'd you end up working under Garrett?" and I know I should've expected the question, but it still stings, and I only flinch slightly as the memories all start replying in my mind.

"If you didn't hear, I don't work for him after I give him the rest of the money."

He rolls his eyes and says, "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Yeah, bud, because I am going to tell you all about how he took me from my sick mother and beat me into submission.

"He knew my mother back in the day, and when she got sick, he paid for her treatment." This is a half-truth, except my agreement with Garrett is that he'll pay for the rest of her treatment forever if I gather a certain amount of money for him. This is the last 10,000, and I am free.

Or at least I hope I am free. I wouldn't put it past the man for backstabbing me. Then an idea hits me.

"How much do you owe him?" I ask Ward, and after all this time, I still keep my gun aimed, which he seems to have accepted at this point.

Ward looks at me with narrowed eyes then answers with, "Too much, probably another 4 years."

I nod, and just maybe my plan will work as I press my finger to the trigger and a shot rings out.

What's a little more blood on my hands?

I walk into the warehouse in Nashville with the money all in hundreds in my bag in a duffle bag along with my Glock and Ward's Smith on my hip hidden by his oversized leather jacket, with a new blood-stained white t-shirt that Ward had been wearing, paired with my own black skinny jeans since I am no longer in L.A. Plus it is easier to hide knives in my boots, and pockets rather than jean shorts.

"You made it," Garrett states from the end of the long oak dining table, looking at the bruise on my face and the blood on my white shirt, then glances over to my shoulder where I imagine he is trying to determine if there is blood in my hair with how knotted it is.

There is definitely some in there from the chaos.

I plant myself in the chair across from him and begin mixing the broth in front of me, and I say, "Not sure why you are surprised; I always finish."

"Usually, you are late, but this time you are rather early."

"A whole 5 minutes, don't get used to it," I say as Garrett looks down at his watch.

"Expecting someone else?" I ask.

"Another one of my employees and your brother will probably show up high," and I nod, even though I am annoyed by Garrett being so harsh on Lincoln for his pill problem since the addiction started because of Garrett, where it became Lincolns’ way of coping with all the death and beatings.

Things were easier in Chicago, getting beaten up by bullies at school until my mom’s ex-boyfriend saw me one day after school.

He saw Lincoln defend me as we both took the bullies out at only 13.

He was impressed and took us away and turned me into a weapon since Lincoln couldn’t handle it, which lead to pills and who knows what else to cope with.

Meanwhile, I don't cope; I bottle things so they don't hurt me.

Solid plan.

Don't feel, can't get hurt.

"Could you maybe change? You are wearing someone's blood on you."

I roll my eyes and drop my fork dramatically, glancing at the blood-covering patches of my hand before looking him dead in the eyes and say, "You asked me to kill to get the money, so deal with it."

"Usually, you clean up before you show up."

I shrug and say, "I want you to see what you have turned me into and that this blood is on your hands, not mine."

He now rolls his eyes and says, "Really, Daisy? What makes this person so different that you must turn up like this?"

"His dark whiskey eyes will haunt me since he was so kind to me. He even saved me, and for what? For me to take my knife and slit his throat. So, therefore, I want you to see the blood you spilled."

He stares at me, then glances at his watch, and then I watch a look of horror reach his face, then he turns back to me and asks, "You said brown eyes, I am assuming he also had brown hair and was cleanly shaven?”

I nod and take a sip of my red wine as realization sits in as Garrett becomes really pale.

"What name did he go by?"

I set my glass down and look up, meeting his eyes from across the table, and I smile as I answer him by saying, "Ward."

His face becomes a look of horror, and I smirk.

"How is that possible?" he whispers. Glad to know he had such confidence in me.

"It wasn't easy, but it worked out. Why so glum chum?" I ask as I twist my spaghetti around my fork.

Garrett continues to stare at me in disbelieve, and I smirk.

Take that old man.

That's what happens when you train a killer.

Kill or be killed.

I continue to eat my dinner with a smile on my face. I almost finish my mashed potatoes when Garrett finally snaps out of his shock, and instead of looking through me, he is looking at me. Then he says, "Where is he now?"

I raise an eyebrow and answer him with, "Some ocean by now."

Then suddenly, the door of the warehouse slams, and I turn around and see my conventional stepbrother stumble in with a bottle in hand. So, drunk, not high.

Somehow he marshes to the table and slams the bottle down, causing everything to raddle, as he stands in the middle of the both of us then he looks at me for the first time with a big grin on his face, and I can finally get a good look at him. His sandy blonde hair has been cut to fall just above his eyes, and as I look into his eyes, I can barely see the red because of how closely they are. Okay, I take it back; he is drunk and high.

"Little sis, finally joining the party," he slurs, then continues with, "Who are you wearing because that doesn't look like Louis Vuitton" and he chuckles to himself.

"I'm wearing Ward, actually," and I watch Garrett flinch again.

Glad to know Ward's soft spot for Garrett wasn't one-sided.

Lincoln looks at me, trying to see if I'm serious, then bursts out laughing and says, "Oh my god, this is gold. You killed Grant Ward?" he then spins to Garrett and peels over laughing, and I wouldn't be surprised if he begins rolling on the floor and laughing.

Glad to know I was right about the name.

I keep myself under control and take a sip of my wine finishing the glass, and Gordon, the butler, comes out and tops up my glass. I stare into the dark red glass, and it reminds me of Ward's blood covering my hands, his white shirt and probably stained into my hair.

I snap myself out of thought and look at my “father,” looking furious as Lincoln continues to laugh, and I roll my eyes because yet again, my “father” is responsible for Lincoln's addiction.

Finally, he loses it and screams, "Will you cut it out? I lost a son today, and you are bellyaching over it with such enjoyment it makes me want to slice your throat."

Amazingly Lincoln manages to pick himself off the ground, and grip onto it with two hands, and says, "It's okay, daddy, dearest, you still have me," he still slurs and flutters his eyes at him, causing Garrett to roll his eyes and pick up his glassing knocking his whiskey back.

Garrett then retorts, "You both are a disappointment to this family; you bring misfortune. Look at you, I give you all the training, and you still fail me time and time again. All you do is party and do drugs, Lincoln. Why haven't I just killed you is beyond me." Then he turns to me and continues, "Then you go off and kill the best thing that has ever happened to me. He respected me and did what I wanted. Something you have never done, and I didn't have to waste my time training him into submission. He was the perfect soldier that I will never find again."

What happens next surprises even me because Garrett shoots up from his seat and aims his gun at me. Well, see where I stand.

He would've preferred Ward had killed me.

I relax in my seat, resting my arms on the rests and stare at him before saying, "Oh father, you really want to kill the girl who was good enough to take down your apparent "son," singlehandedly without much of scratch to herself."

He lowers his gun and says, "You freaking screwed him, didn't you? You got into his pants and took advantage of him."

I now roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest and sarcastically say, "Glad you are so concerned over the possibility that he could've taken advantage of me." I pause and wait for him to speak, and when he doesn't, I continue with, "I see that your priorities are with the dead guy." Okay, maybe a little low.

But then again.

He is the one who told me it was 'Kill or be killed.'

I had decided in that motel I need to live for my mom.

The choice was kill.

I lean back in my chair with Lincoln in the middle watching the showdown, and Garrett sits back down, and we sit in silence as Lincoln finally pulls out a chair and practically falls into it as I take another sip of wine.

The taste hits my tongue, and I immediately pull the glass away and spit what I can back into the glass.

He tried to drug me.

AGAIN.

I slam the glass down, and it shatters in my hand, and the new blood covers the old blood as I shoot daggers with my eyes at the man, who calls me his daughter.

"You tried to drug me again; seriously, what the hell? I brought you the money, did your bidding for YEARS. I have been perfect. Why are you trying to drug me?"

He takes a drink of his water and looks me dead in the eye as he says, "I can't let you leave the room alive. You are no longer useful to me without the contract. I felt it would be more, what's the word" and he looks to the ceiling for the answer causing me to roll my eyes, "more comfortable if we just drugged you with something nontraceable and throw you over a bridge."

I can't say I didn't expect that.

Kill or be killed.

I raise from my seat only to be suddenly restrained by two men who think it's a good idea to push me to the ground where I can now access the knives are in my boot.

I pull one out and slit one of their throats with ease and stab the other in the leg before stepping back and winking at my “father.”

He gives me a questionable expression, then reaches into his jacket pocket to grab his gun from his seat when he is suddenly ripped from the chair and thrown to the floor by his favourite son.

Ward points a Ruger LCP at Garrett, who lays on the ground dazed by the recent turn of events.

"I was starting to think you were going to leave me high and dry here," I say to him before dusting myself off and walking over to that end of the table with Lincoln still sitting there eating away as if nothing happened.

Ward shakes his head now and says, "I wasn't sure when was a good time for me to appear from the shadows, and we agreed as soon as blood was shed."

Garrett finally recovers mentally and looks at Ward with wide eyes and whispers, "What are you doing?"

Ward laughs and answers with, "I am doing something for myself. See your daughter here," now he looks at me in the eyes, not moving his gun and continues with, "who actually never told me about your biological connection. It actually reminded me that I wasn't always a cold-blooded killer; you turned me into this. I am done; I am out. You literally admitted I was just a gun for hire."

I decide to bud in with, “I’d like to interject and say he is my abuser, and I actually have no blood relation to this piece of trash.”

Garrett frantically shakes his head at Ward and says, “I was literally mourning your death, Grant; I was going to end her here because she took you. You don’t understand how manipulative Daisy is.”

I laugh as I move to now stand beside Ward and answer with, “My name is Skye.”

Standing beside him now allows me to examine his face, and although he tries to hide it, I can see the sparks of pain flicking in his eyes.

“I might not know her, but I know who the real manipulator is,” Ward answers.

I take this moment and reach over to lower the gun Ward has trained on Garrett, which forced Ward to look at me again, and I realize my decision is right. He has a single tear escaping from his eye, and my heart pings slightly with guilt.

Garrett shifts slightly once Ward tucks his gun away, and I quickly draw mine and shoot him twice in the chest, causing Ward to jump and for Lincoln to drop his fork. I look towards Lincoln see his wide eyes staring back at me with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. Meanwhile, Ward stands frozen beside me.

Kill or be killed. Guess that wasn't a lesson taught to him.

I move away and walk towards where Garrett fell as he begins to cough up blood.

I kneel beside him and whisper in his ear, "Gotcha."

He smirks as he coughs blood up, "Who's paying for your mother, then Daisy?"

I smile flutter my eyelashes, "It pays off to have transferred all the money out of your accounts and shuffled it around and was donated several hours ago in her name. So, you don't own me; I beat you."

He looks blankly and continues to cough, and I draw my gun again.

“Oh, and my name is Skye,” I keep the gun drawn but don’t shoot because I don’t want to hurt Ward, but I cannot risk Garrett somehow surviving since he’s like a cockroach. But before I can press the trigger, someone else does it, putting a bullet right between his eyes.

I look to my left where the shot came from, and I see Lincoln standing there, gun in hand.

"Wow," is all I can say, and he laughs.

"Don't worry, sis, I got you," and he winks, then moves towards me and stumbles, falling over another dining chair.

I roll my eyes; okay, it was impressive for two seconds.

I turn towards Ward and see him look at the body of my so-called father, emotionless. So, I place my hand on his and lookup meeting his gaze. Where, although his face is emotionless, giving nothing away, something I imagine my own face matches that expression since it's something I was trained to do. As I look into his eyes, they tell a different story, where I see sorrow and conflict.

As much as it pains me because I am uncomfortable, I wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him. Where he melts into the embrace, it is weird that I am the one comforting him. Garrett was a father figure in my life before he showed his true self, and I helped kill him. Yet, all I feel is a relief since I am free. My mother will be taken care of with the money I stole.

What else is there for me?

Why would I mourn the man who destroyed me and took what made me human?

He taught me to bury my feelings and feel nothing.

The ability to mourn is non-existent now.

So, jokes on him, he gets nothing else from me.

'Kill or be killed' echoes in my head.

He was right.

But he was the one killed.

It is my life now.

One thing he failed to take while beating me was my ability to love.

I love my mom and would do anything for her, which is how I lasted this long in Garrett's world. I did it for her, to give her the life she needs and get her the best treatment possible to win her fight against cancer.

As I look at the man beside me, I realize I did this for him as well. I was already out and had the ability to disappear at any moment, taking my mom with me since my knowledge of how computers and knowing enough about Garrett’s banking system. It would’ve been easier to betray him since I know in my heart I didn't owe Garrett anything; I knew what had been done to me was wrong even though I keep the memories locked in a small box. I know they didn't just leave physical scars.

Maybe one day the memories will fade, but at least I did something redeemable.

I saved Grant Ward, a man who felt he owed his life to Garrett. I changed that for him. I could have just let him wither away, but I stopped the cycle. I saved him.

The girl who has killed.

Saved someone.

Isn't it ironic?

Don't you think?

**_TO BE CONTINUED_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooo  
> Did I trick you? Who thought Grant was dead? I definitely twisted words here to mislead since it was apart of Skye's plan to get Garrett to show Ward his bad side.  
> Questions: What do you think would happens next? Did Skye make the right move and save Ward? Will Skye be able to heal? What was your favourite part?  
> I also just love making Lincoln my comic relief, so him eating the mashed potatoes is by far my favourite part.  
> I plan to post next Sunday the next update. I am considering a 4th part.
> 
> When I thought of this story, I always knew they would both survive, and it would be Garrett who would die, and they both would take him out. I personally have a bias of always wanting Skye/female characters to have a HEA, which doesn't always mean with Grant/other ship, especially with this version of Skye being unemotionally unavailable right now with how much she has bottled up and ignored over the years to protect herself. Now she is free of her fake father is gone and can now run off with her mother. 
> 
> This part is dedicated to Kazzo96 for her request for this story in TMI, which encouraged me to finish the other parts.
> 
> Stay Safe!

**Author's Note:**

> I know you all enjoyed that, and I hope you didn't see the ending coming.  
> I'd never kill Skye/Daisy. She also warned him several times.  
> Make sure to leave comments and kudos if you want the next part. Otherwise, I can just leave it here, which is what I did with my TMI version for like 6 months.  
> "Ride" by Twenty one pilots.


End file.
